Filia
by Eilidh17
Summary: Meridian through to Homecoming from Janet and Cassie's POV, and a little bit of Daniel's. Warning: Story contains canon death of a main character.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Notes: This story is essentially a prelude, missing scene, and epilogue for Meridian, as well as missing scenes for Fallen and Homecoming. A look at Meridian through to Homecoming from Janet and Cassie's POV's, and little bit of Daniel's. Please note that the Category and Warning cover the entire series.

**Filia**

"Capto?"

Daniel peered over the top his glasses at Cassie's puzzled expression, and letting out a despondent sigh, cleared his throat, and said with a touch more authority, "Cassandra… again."

"It's not right? Sure? What am I saying, of course you are." With a huff, Cassie narrowed her eyes. "You're sure?"

Arching an eyebrow at the cheeky comment, and tapping the cover of the book he was nursing, Daniel decided that continuing to argue with a frustrated teen was brave at best, stupid at worst. "Ah, am I sure? Cassie, now we have been over this, you know it's all in here." Tossing the book in the air, he grinned. "Via Latina never lies!"

Catching the book in one hand, Cassie frowned at the cover, twisting her mouth into a grimace. "Uncle Daniel, why don't we face it? My Latin sucks big time!"

Whilst he would never openly agree, Daniel was close to conceding that taking on Latin might not have been one of Cassie's wisest curriculum choices. Janet had reluctantly signed off on her decision to pick up the language in her junior year, knowing she was only doing it to impress her adopted uncle. Still, to be fair, they had been sitting around in Cassie's overly teen-pimped bedroom for hours now, and both were starting to feel the strain.

Sprawled on her bed, nestled in amongst an army of soft toys and ridiculously over-stuffed cushions, Cassie heaved a disinterested sigh and buried her head in her pillow, ignorant of the study notes perched on top. "Can't we finish this later?" She whined in a muffled voice, "Like, maybe in a few days?"

_Yeah_, Daniel thought grimly, _Jack would so impressed_. "I won't be here in a few days, you know that. Now come on, you're so close."

Flipping onto her back, Cassie dragged the mangled notes out from under her head and held them up. "It has to be capto," she said, her lack of interest obvious.

Listening to Cassie mangle another exercise, Daniel fought the urge to sigh. "Okay, that's close," he breathed, reaching under his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. "Your tenses are straying." Smiling at the eye roll he received for his efforts, Daniel explained the rules once more.

"We're talking about a complete action here."

"Ohhh," Cassie whimpered and dropped her hands to the bed, the paper falling to the floor. "I'm never going to get this, am I?"

"Sure you will."

"Two weeks! I can't believe exams snuck up on me this quickly."

Snagging a chair with his foot, Daniel slid in next to Cassie and gave her a quick hug. "It's not that bad, really." Reaching over and rifling though papers scattered over her desk, he plucked one out and turned it to show her. "Here, look, you know the answer to this already. We went over it last weekend. `Simple, Incomplete, and Complete.' Capto, capto and… what?"

"iPod?"

Daniel gave her a questioning look. "iPod? And that has _what_ to do with Latin?"

"It sure beats doing it?" Cassie suggested hopefully, twirling a lock of hair.

"Well, your iPod won't give you a good end of year pass mark, will it?" Daniel teased. "So have at it again, bright eyes. Capto, capto, and?"

Cassie grumbled, rolled onto her stomach and clucked her tongue loudly. "Captavi?" she offered with little enthusiasm.

"Yes! See!" With a quick kiss on the top of her head, Daniel stood up and stretched. "I knew the answer was lurking in there somewhere."

"I was right?' Cassie blinked her astonishment.

"Yep, now every time that exercise comes up, just think of S.I.C – Simple, Incomplete, and Complete and you should fly through your exam."

"Lurking! Cute, Uncle Daniel."

"I thought so," Daniel beamed, "and on that note, it's almost dinner, can't keep your mother waiting."

"Already?" Cassie checked her watch and eyed the mountain of paperwork on her desk. "There's so much to work through."

"And we've still got next weekend," he said tapping the stack of papers and waggling a finger at her. "Plenty of revision you could be doing between now and then."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." Pinching a fluffy pillow from Cassie's bed, Daniel tossed it at her on his way out the door, poking his head around the corner just in time to see her fend it off, smiling as she batted it away with a disgruntled "nggh". Lightly rapping his knuckles on the door jamb, he smiled gently and whispered, "Filia meus pectus pectoris."

"Filia meus pect... what?" Shaking her head, Cassie had no idea. "Daniel?'

~oOo~

Juggling the roasting dish in both hands, Janet nudged the oven door closed with her hip and slid the chicken onto the bench. "Perfect!" She beamed, shrugging off the oven mitts and pushing them to one side. "Falling off the bone, just how I like it."

"Smells delicious."

"Oh!" Janet's head shot up, startled at the unexpected intrusion. "Finished already?"

"Oh, yes." Daniel hopped up on a bench stool and sniffed appreciatively, reaching out to pluck off a piece of meat. "She was starting to get distracted so I thought we'd call it a night. Perfect timing from the looks of it."

With a half-hearted scowl, Janet tapped the top of his hand and tutted, "You can just wait till it's served like the rest of us."

"Mom!" Cassie's voice drifted down the hall and out into the kitchen.

"Yes, honey!' Janet called out over her shoulder.

"Is Uncle Daniel…?"

"What? Staying for dinner?"

"Uh-huh."

"How's that bedroom looking, young lady?"

"Umm…."

"What? You didn't think I noticed the mess?" Janet called out, and then leaned over the bench to pat Daniel's hand. "Don't tell her I'm bringing in earth moving equipment in the morning. How I let you in there without the proper vaccinations is a worry, but I'm sure I can cure any disease you might have picked up."

"Well," Daniel snorted, "it didn't look that bad to me."

"Should I be worried about your housekeeping skills?"

"Oh good!" Cassie walked into the kitchen, pulling her hair into a pony-tail and flicking the fringe out of her eyes. "You did stay," she said with a smile, taking up an adjacent stool.

"No, I was lying," Janet scoffed, eyeing her daughter critically.

"Mom!"

"Well, I wouldn't have said Daniel was staying if I didn't mean it."

"Are you two always like this?" Daniel asked, his gaze drifting between the two women.

"No, Uncle Daniel." Cassie wriggled her butt to get comfortable. "We only put on this routine for you. Anyway," she said, watching with interest as Janet carved up the chicken, "are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about what `Filia meus pectus pectoris' means?"

"Nope," Daniel answered with a shake of his head, "you're a clever girl… you work it out."

Cassie scowled and punched him lightly on the arm. "I hate it when you do that!"

"What?" Daniel rubbed the spot with a feigned pained look on his face and laughed. "Making you learn something?"

"It's not fair," she pouted, leaning over the chicken and ooh-ing appreciatively, "you've got a head start."

"True, but we all had to learn at some time, and you did elect to take up Latin."

"Only because I knew I'd have you to help me."

"Ahh, insider information, huh?" Janet laughed lightly, enjoying the happy banter between the two as she served out dinner. "Aren't you going off world early tomorrow, Daniel?"

"Yeah," he moaned, looking up at the clock on the wall. "Even with our oh-four-hundred hours start, we'll still be arriving mid afternoon their time."

"Oh, the joys of gate travel."

"Chronological nightmare, more like it," Daniel said with a hint of a smile, "get's Jack every time."

"I can imagine," Janet agreed. "So these people are… who?"

"The Kelownan's."

"Sounds Canadian," Cassie chimed in, juggling a hot carrot and blowing on it at the same time.

"Cassie!"

"Well," she scoffed, dropping it on the bench, "it does. I'm sure there's a place in Canada with the same name."

"Young lady," Janet flashed a mixing spoon at Cassie and winked, "with your last geography mark, I'm surprised you can find the bathroom without getting lost."

"Mom," Cassie dragged out the word with an exaggerated sigh, "I so aced that exam."

"If you call a `D' acing it."

"Ladies!" Daniel broke into what was becoming a heated debate. "I don't think the Kelownan's much care about Canada."

"Right." Janet smiled and handed the chicken platter to Cassie. "Take this over, please," she said, nodding towards the already set table. "So, Daniel, these Kelownan's?"

Daniel slid off the stool, snagged two bowls of mixed vegetables and headed to the table. "We don't know that much about them really except their technology level is about equivalent to the United States in the 1940's. The dialing computer lifted the address from the Abydos cartouche and we hit pay dirt on the first dial."

"Well, I'll just be happy if you all come back not needing my services."

"Famous last words, Janet."

"I'll try not to remember you said that."

To be continued in part 2…


	2. Chapter 2

There have been very few times in my life where I've had to call my own sense of self control into question. I've had my moments. Times I've flown off the handle for one reason or another, recently in fact, but today… today it's a luxury I can't afford. I want to cry, to grab the nearest shoulder or find a quiet room and cry until there are no more tears left. I don't think I've ever felt like this before. I've lost family members, friends, and work colleagues. Hell, I've lost patients I've battled for days to save, thought I'd gotten them over the final hurdle, only to have them fade without putting up so much as a whimper. This is worse, it shouldn't be, no one life should be more mourned than another, but this stings like nothing I've experienced before.

There's this hurt in my chest so strong, it's hard for me to breathe, and my rational thoughts? Please, they have gone AWOL. I can't seem to think clearly anymore. No one here is coping. Quiet and introspective, my nursing staff watch each other with sadness in their eyes. They are unsure what to say, and their grief is palpable. I know I can rely on them though, and when I need them, my people will be ready. It's all Daniel and I can ask, no more. We have all been so deeply affected by this that there isn't a single person on this base who knows Daniel Jackson that isn't hurting.

There is one thing I'm sure of though. By the end of this day, none of us will be the same, and no amount of consoling and counseling will ever diminish what has taken place. By the time everyone else wakes up to their lives and their families, Cassandra will have lost her uncle, and my family will have lost our dearest friend.

Daniel's life, what's left of it, can only be measured in hours. Lying back on his hospital bed, eyes closed, he looks like he's napping, but the truth is much uglier. The hours we've spent taking swabs, tending to various cuts and scrapes, and scrubbing down every millimetre of skin has taken its toll, and he's exhausted. Sadly, it's all for nothing. I haven't discussed this with him, not yet, but he knows. Daniel was a smart guy, no! Daniel **is** a smart guy. God, I can't seem to get this squared away, but I know I have to. It's my job, and Daniel needs to know. He would know the level of neutron radiation he was exposed to was lethal, and decontamination was more for the safety of the people around him than for any good it would actually do.

My head is aching, and I feel like I want to scream. I won't, of course, but it's like I'm losing my sanity here. The stupidity of it all astounds me. Here I sit in one of the most advanced medical facilities in the world, and every last piece of it is useless! I know what's wrong with him. I can describe it with as much detached emotion and clinical correctness as needed, write a report if I have to, and I will. Still, regardless of the wonders we've bought back through the gate and the hope of a last minute reprieve from our allies, there is nothing here that can save him.

He's still sleeping, albeit uncomfortably. The first symptoms of radiation sickness, nausea and vomiting, struck while he was in scrub down, and despite the fear in his eyes, Daniel still managed to acknowledge the incident with a wry smile. Marking that moment in his charts, noting the time and dose of Compazine I'd given him, I quietly accepted that war had been declared. There were no missiles being thrown here, no hostile incursions, or cities razed to the ground, this was a physiological war, and our only weapons were the drugs at our disposal. I know we have prepared physically for what Daniel's body is about to throw at us, but what about mentally? How do we prepare for that?

I look down at the scribbled name on my note pad and try not to associate the name with the reason for it being there. Daniel has no set religious beliefs, he's a man very much of the world, the galaxy really. He has always shown a healthy interest in the various cultures and religions he's come into contact with, part and parcel of being an anthropologist, but never has he shown a preference for any one belief system. I'm tracing a circle around the name, so hard it goes through to the blotter beneath, wanting nothing more than to yell out "you're not needed here!", but I have to respect this person has a place in the order of things. Still… I don't know what Daniel's reaction will be. The decision to offer last rites was the Colonel's, and through thick and thin, this man knows Daniel better than any of us. Whether he accepts Chaplin Welsh's offer of last rites or not, I don't know, but his presence will be a source of comfort for his friends and the nursing staff.

Daniel flinches in his sleep, his breathing hitches and speeds up. I'm instantly on alert and begging any deity that will listen to grant him just a few more moments of peace, just a while longer to spend some time with his team. As fast as I get up from my stool, he calms down, turning slightly onto his side, dragging the monitor leads across his chest, and tucking his bandaged hands under his chin. It's a classic Daniel sleep pose, one I've seen many times over the years, and I'm suddenly hit by how tired I feel. Tired, scared, and more than a little pissed off. Or is it frustration? It's not enough I can't save Daniel, but I almost feel complicit in his death, like my inability to save him is part of the reason he's dying.

If the brief account of the accident I got from Sam is true to events, then I really shouldn't be blaming myself. It's just so hard not to though. Looking at him lying there, ignoring the wrapped hands and cuts and scrapes, it's difficult to imagine there's anything wrong. Self sacrificing, that's what this was, and I'm still at a loss over the absurdity of Daniel's actions, but as sure as I know this man, I'm positive he acted because there was no choice.

The mission to Kelowna, a name I do not want to ever have to repeat, was supposed to be an exchanging of ideas, not an exchanging of one life for millions of others! Still, I am a doctor, not a diplomat, so what the hell would I know. Damn them to hell. Our last dinner together was so much fun, we laughed about the mission, and Daniel had been so eager to explore the city and its rich history.

Taking SG-1 through their post mission physicals, I try to remember the casual banter between Daniel and the Colonel. Feigning disinterest; apparently the Kelownan level of technology was nothing to write home about, the Colonel decided a follow up visit was a waste of taxpayers' dollars. "Uncle Sam is footing the bill, and he's got better things to spend the money on, Daniel." Daniel, face telling the story and arms waving seven ways to heaven, argued the old fight between military might and scientific curiosity, and like the good diplomat he was fast becoming, science won out. Sam's traitorous smile earned her the "we're talking insubordination" lecture from the Colonel, while Teal'c added one of his eyebrows to the discussion with the barest of movement…. He wasn't about to be drawn into anything.

Unbelievable! I throw in one soft snort to the conversation and the Colonel is all for pulling the return mission then and there. "There's nothing there, Daniel." In the end Daniel's argument over some ten thousand year old Goa'uld won over the Colonel's observation that SG-someone or rather could tour the city just as easily as they could. Daniel wouldn't yield, and with a conciliatory roll of the eyes, and a murmur of dissent, the Colonel relented to a return visit. Case closed.

I'll admit my attention wavered at that point. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour or because I'd skipped lunch and my body was protesting its hunger, but the clock on the wall was telling me it was time to leave. Observations noted down, release forms signed, and I was ushering my favorite team out the door with a suggestion they might like to head to the showers before hitting the commissary. Flashy smiles all-round and a tossed "mother-hen" comment on the wind from the Colonel, and SG-1 was gone.

Did I have reason to expect the unexpected? No. Daniel isn't a risk taker; he's a thinker, a people person. Words before action…. Something the colonel didn't always ascribe to, but learned to trust. So a day later, and barely hours into their planned return visit to Kelowna, SG-1 was home, riding in on a sea of accusations and declaring a medical emergency.

The call for a medical team to 'alpha two' came out over the base intercom, just audible above the din of the warning system. My stomach flipped sickeningly. Alpha two is the base designation for the decontamination unit. Snatching a pair of gloves, I headed out of the main infirmary to the isolation wards, while trying to run through the possible scenarios in my mind. None of them bode well for a happy ending, and masking my fears with a professional face, I realized the only team off world at this moment was SG-1.

I'd love to think that one day I'll forget these events. Not Daniel, no, never him, just this whole nightmare. One morning I'll wake up and the horrors of all of this will be safely tucked away in my mind where they can't hurt me anymore. Where I can remember all the good times we had with Daniel and not be left with the scars of his death. I can't believe I'm thinking like this. What am I doing?

I know.

I'm trying hard to forget the hours we spent in decon going through scrub after scrub until Daniel's radiation level was bought down to within safe limits. Not once did I hear a word of complaint. His soft smiles and far away look showed just how tired he was, but with every register of the counter, he just strode back into the decon wash.

I think if I had to admit to myself what was scaring me most at this moment, besides the waiting and the knowing, it would be the rest of SG-1. This team is so close knit, they are family in every way possible, and this was killing them. It didn't take a trained psychologist to see it when I checked on them after their own decontamination survey.

Sam carried her emotions on her sleeve. Ashen face, she locked herself in a self hug, rocking back and forth, with her eyes closed. Teal'c was quiet, no surprise there, but this was different. There was an air of sadness about him that I'd never encountered before. No one action gave it away, and I had to look close, but his pain was soul deep. What I saw in Colonel O'Neill worried me the most. Detached, seated away from his team, he didn't once make eye contact with me, and my questions were answered with nods and grunts, or sometimes with silence. They were all in shock, reality had bit, and it had bitten them hard. We would all have to dig deeper than ever before to make it through this day.

Drawing breath, I turn back to my report and struggle over the contents. In many ways these words are Daniel's final epitaph, his life measured in hours and documented in ever increasing medical jargon that only the health profession will appreciate. He deserves so much more, and there is no one to give it. I take note of the time and realize with a heavy heart that he's due for his next blood test. Drawing a vial and needle from the supplies, I move to his bedside and pause to take in his features. Face cut from flying glass, bruising on his shoulder peeking out from under his white scrubs, testament to a hard landing, he looks too peaceful for me to disturb, but I have no choice.

"Daniel, honey," I say, brushing his arm tenderly, not wanting to scare him, "I need to draw some blood, want to wake up for me?"

He draws in a long breath, brows rising in a facial yawn and cracks one eye open. "Hey."

"Hi there."

"Sorry," he mumbles, reaching up to knuckle the sleep from his eyes, pausing as he spots the IV line taped to the back of his hand. "Guess it wasn't a dream after all," he says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"No." It's all I can come up with at the moment without bursting into tears. "I need to take some blood. You okay with that?" I can feel my voice falter with every word. Of course he's not okay, Janet, nothing about this is okay.

He nods slightly and shifts his gaze to a point on the far wall. "You are going to tell me, aren't you?"

I know what he wants, and it doesn't surprise me really. Daniel is a man of knowledge who's been blessed with a healthy appetite, and it's a character trait that drives the Colonel insane on a good day. As I feel around for a good vein, he doesn't even wince when I force the needle through skin and into the vein wall. The vial fills with a whoosh and I quickly replace it with another. "I hadn't planned on keeping anything from you, Daniel, if that's what you're asking."

"I want to know, Janet," Daniel murmurs, losing interest in the wall and sliding his gaze back to me. "What can I expect, how long until…." A flicker of pain and fear registers on his face and he doesn't attempt to hide his grief. "How long will this take?"

_A life measured in hours, Daniel. You have no idea._ "I can't answer that, Daniel, not and be definite about my estimation, because we really can't be sure."

"Hours? Days?"

"With the amount of radiation you were exposed to…" I swallow hard, trying to come up with an encouraging answer, knowing full well there isn't one. "… a day at best." Not wanting to meet his eyes, afraid the wall I've built will finally crack; I take his silence as cold fear. Sliding the needle out, I pull off the vial and toss the rest into the sharps receptacle, taking a moment to scribble his information on the tubes. "Are you certain you want to know the rest?" I ask, lifting my eyes to meet his for the briefest of moments before tossing the vials into a bag and snapping off my gloves. "Sometimes it's not the kindest thing to do."

Daniel's head shoots up and he stares at me intensely. "Janet, it's the only thing you can do and we both know it." His voice wavers with undisguised emotion, and resting his hand over mine, he adds softly, "I want to know. No… I need to know, to be able to prepare myself somehow."

"Daniel-"

"Cassie!" Daniel swings his legs off the bed, and suddenly looks decidedly green. Blinking rapidly and swallowing hard, he clutches at his stomach as his breathing speeds up, and he reaches for the strategically placed enema bowl on the night stand. I can only guess the Compazine I gave him earlier is starting to wear off.

"Easy," I say, rubbing his back soothingly, holding back the urge to throw up in sympathy with him. "I'm going to grab you some more Compazine, okay?" Daniel nods imperceptivity as I hand him a tissue and move over to the drugs cupboard.

"I want to see her."

"What?" I glance at him over my shoulder as I'm loading up a syringe. "Cassie?"

He offers me a tired smile. "I need to, before… before I can't." Pushing the bowl aside, Daniel lifts his legs back on the bed and wraps his arms tight around his knees, head tucked to his chest. "I'm scared," he mumbles from under his arms. I finish loading the syringe and add it to his IV, setting the flow rate. Ten milligrams, it's a large dose, but his symptoms are getting worse, and very soon no amount of the drug will offer him respite.

Disposing of the syringe, I push the rollaway table aside and sit on the edge of his bed by his shoulder, and careful of his IV line's, pull him into my embrace. "I know." It's really all I can offer at this point; though I'm sure it's not enough. Head still buried in his chest, he reaches out to pat my hand and grabbing it, holds on to my fingers like the life line they will eventually become. A solitary tear tracks its way down his cheek, and leaning in closer, I lay my head against his, breathing him in, and hoping he can't see mine. Our time, no, damn it, my time with Daniel is so precious now, and I wonder if he feels my tears. I hope not.

He needs his team, his friends, his family, and for better or for worse, we are all of that. Sam, Jack, Teal'c, the General, and me. Of course, Cassandra, she loves him most of all. Is she going to be strong enough? Is this going to be too much for her to cope with? Cassie is strong though, she survived what no child should be forced to, and I always wondered if her tragedy and Daniel's forged that strong bond. Adversity and trauma so great, they naturally gravitated together?

I suppose I need to give my daughter her choice, if she wants to, needs to say goodbye to Daniel, then that's what I have to do.

I will never, ever, understand why this had to happen. So many people are going to be hurt forever, and the world will lose one of its brightest stars.

~oOo~

Tbc… in part 3


End file.
